


The Broken Chains

by TheBlackBane



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Denial of Feelings, Love/Hate, M/M, Self-Acceptance, Self-Destruction, Self-Discovery, Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 19:26:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15126269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBlackBane/pseuds/TheBlackBane
Summary: Fenris lingers in his mansion with Danarius still alive, waiting for leads to sate his vengeance, but also deterring himself from others. Zevran has been interested in the elf since they met, and might turn out to be more of a pest than a comfort.Fenris x Zevran.A ship only few like to sail - pity.





	1. Chapter 1

The Broken Chains

It was a nightmare, the constant trepidation of being caught again, the anxiety and the hatred that conflicted and never sought to give the man any tranquillity, he was a vessel of hatred and vengeance, and he would not rest before his master was dead. This was one pledge he made to himself, not only to break away from the the invisible chains on his wrists, but also for the people he had wronged, whom only wanted to help him. It was the lure of succumbing easily to his former life, to easily concede to one’s will, to subjugate and to follow. However, this was not his preference, he would not let anyone capture him, and especially not for the sole purpose of being sold, or worse, to extract the lyrium that run across his tanned skin that marked him forever with the vehement power he had been cursed with.

Restlessly, Fenris lied upon his bed, the room around him lacked any comfort, reminding him of the slums of Lowtown. The walls missed bricks, and the ground had cracks, which were obvious signs that the building was deteriorating. If not for the rather decorative red curtains that blocked the sun from coming in, the mansion would have lost its appeal. It was a routine for the elf, to deter himself from his companions, from anyone that wanted to be near him. It fuelled him with hatred that sympathy was the only thing he saw in the eyes of others, even in those of Hawke when he first offered to help the elf. Fenris shifted onto his side, making the bed creek as he muttered to himself, struggling to find something that mitigates the overwhelming mental pain. It wasn’t that long ago that they invaded this mansion in hope to track down Danarius, and it was a futile attempt, something the elf had suspected, but his hopes were high at that moment, which only made the disappointment hit harder. The life of being hunted, no longer, Fenris wouldn’t idle any longer, he needed more leads, and so far he had only been pestering Aveline about what she could find or do for him, knowing she has her restrictions aswell as Guard Captain.

‘’Vashedan’’, Fenris cursed as he slowly sat up on the bed, wearing his armor still for safety measures, despite it being uncomfortable to sleep in, but he looked sleep deprived, gathered he barely got any sleep regardless. His clawed gauntlets dragged over his face, running down his features as he sighed deeply, unknowing of his next step. He for one wanted to solve this mess on his own, dragging others with him could be dangerous, more than dangerous, and he didn’t want the death of one of his companions on his conscience. He considered going to the cellar again to retrieve the rather expensive wine that Danarius left behind, but to drink his problems away again, would it help him at all? If it alleviated his problems just a little but, he considered it to be worth it. With that idea in his head, he slipped himself from his bed and ventured to the cellar where he moved down the stairs and took a bottle of wine. ‘’Aggreasio Pervali’’, the elf said lowly to himself as he read the label. The wine bottle had a long neck and the glass was made of a dark transparent green, which allowed the dark crimson liquid within to be visualized quite well. He cared little for what the wine was called, the contents were the only thing of importance to him. He reached upto full height again and ventured back to his bedroom, standing infront of the fireplace that he had lit only recently, giving him the urge to overthink again. He blocked this by removing the cork of the bottle and draining a good amount before sighing in approval. It cooled him already, diminishing his mind from working overtime.

‘’My friend, why would you drink alone? Have you not heard of sharing? How rude’’, a voice rang somewhere behind Fenris as the elf’s eyes widened and his lyrium markings began to glow fiercely, his left hand that was free clenched together as he finally analyzed the voice, along with the distinctive accent, it was Antivan. Fenris settled down as his gaze averted around to spot the other man within his vicinity, but he had trouble doing so, afterall, finding an assassin is like looking for a needle in a haystack. ‘’Leave me be.’’, Fenris answered with a cold tone, scowling, his signature, no doubt. 

He stopped looking as he averted his gaze back to the fireplace and drained more of the liquid that easily ran down his throat, the burning crimson fire reflecting in his verdant green eyes as he struggled to compose himself. Silent steps glided across the pavement, almost circling around the taller elf, but not quite, it came to an end as Zevran had comfortably seated himself into one of the vacant chairs near the fireplace, crossing one leg over the other, horizontally. He leaned back rather comfortably in the chair, letting a singular digit trace his lips as he looked upto the elf. ‘’But you invited me - how dare you to shoo me away like this. Not very nice, no?’’. Fenris was already growing agitated from the playfulness in the Antivan’s voice, it bothered him as his own voice lacked any emotion. ‘’I never invited you, so begone from my mansion’’. Zevran couldn’t help to smile as he looked at the white haired male, amused by the words. ‘’But the window was open. Specifically for me, no?’’. Fenris furrowed his brows as he shook his head, adding pressure onto the bottle of wine within his hand. ‘’Just because the window is open-’’.

Zevran lifted himself from the chair and walked to the side of the elf, the smaller elf draped in dark black armor that made his golden hair stand out prominently. He slithered his left hand to Fenris’, grasping the half-drained bottle away and lifting it to his lips. ‘’Oh, so nice of you to share’’, Zevran once again spoke, his golden eyes glinting innocently as his lips broadened into a smile. It only took little to break Fenris, and now it had come so far, this was something Zevran was waiting for, not only to see the glowing markings, but also to know he still was able to tick someone off so easily. He enjoyed it, deeply so, the thrill of danger made him feel more alive, as it was known for a Crow, or well, ex-Crow, non-existant Crow as he had killed their leader. Many thoughts of his time with the Crows surfaced, but his train of thoughts were interrupted by a strong hand around his throat that pushed him with sheer force against the brick wall next to the fireplace. He felt the heath of the fire draw to him, and the lack of breathing made his position imminent.

Fenris’ sentence was cut off as he saw the little elf take away his most precious wine that was his only saviour, it boiled him to see one can easily take away something from him, and then be so rude about it. His markings began to glow, eyebrows furrowing and a countenance of hatred became visible upon his face. His left hand gripped at Zevran’s throat and launched him right into the wall behind him, feeling the impact had most likely hurt the assassin, but the man never gave away such validation. He leaned in closer to Zevran as his green eyes settled onto the golden ones, one burning with hatred, the other in vague confusion and innocence. Ofcourse, what else to expect. He was an assassin, it would be foolish to disclose his emotions. Zevran still held onto the bottle in his left hand that struggled to clutch onto the bottle as his airway was blocked, but Fenris saw the other wouldn’t relent.

‘’Begone, Zevran. Take your goading elsewhere’’. In his state of rage, the taller elf only came to realize the other was suffocating as he released him, whom then was gasping for air and holding both hands up innocently. ‘’I will come aslong the windows are open. Perhaps you should repair them, yes? I feel so invited!’’. Zevran mused out, smirking still as he drank the wine again and turned to the window he came in from. ‘’Also, my dear friend, your bed is horrible. How do you have intimate in such? Horrible creeking too’’. Zevran jumped down the window as Fenris growled lowly and his markings were glowing again before eventually dimming down, cursing again. He hoped this was the first and last visit of the assassin to his mansion, and now he also felt the urge to get the windows repaired, but perhaps that was just an excuse.


	2. Chapter 2

Chaper Two

The Assassin’s P.O.V

Zevran was one of the most renowned assassins in all of Antiva, many knew him as he worked his way up in the Crows, making sure all his jobs were swiftly done, and considering he learned rather easily, being cunning, subtle and charming, it was a rather accoladed feat. Although times tend to change, and even though as one has been compelled to detach himself from emotions, sometimes you cannot stop yourself from liking someone, maybe more than you should. And for this Antivan assassin it was a game, to sleep around, to kill, he loved once, but never again. It shattered his heart and he since then closed his heart off to anyone who tried to ever break it again into a million pieces. The horrible childhood was perhaps a generous one to him, considering he could have grown up among elves in the Alienage who were less fortunate.

Pledging himself to kill everyone left that was within the Crows, it sounded off, but strangely satisfying to take the life of those that he grew up, whom he learned from, whom he lost things from. Regardless, as being known as ‘’The Black Shadow’’, Zevran was more than pleased that he became someone people feared, especially those who he worked for. Along the way of being hunted by the Crows himself, he instead decided that he could play with them, use them like puppets before finishing them, how it was amusing. Ever since the day that Zevran ran into Hawke, Fenris, Aveline and Varric, he felt animosity with the other elf, but that was likely something common as the white haired elf always seemed to glare or scowl. Varric noted so freely that Fenris wasn’t the happiest of elves around. Zevran however deflected the threats of Fenris with dry humor and flirtation, which caused only more agitation to be elicited from the ex-slave.

It was a late night, and Zevran had done his killing in Kirkwall, with help of Hawke and his companions, however, the Antivan wasn’t considering to leave so soon, not without confronting the one he had taken interest in, and like many times, he would get what he want, and if that was to be struggle, then he shall not hesitate. He came from the Hanged Man after some Wicked Grace he played with Varric, listening to the many tales the dwarf had to tell, many which were almost too good to be true. The sky was dark, and pebbles scattered the pavement of Lowtown, few were around, but those were mere stragglers that posed no issue. For Zevran, this was his field of expertise, the darkness gave him advantage as where daylight couldn’t, except for making the sunlight prominently emphasis his beautiful features that many fell victim to, if not for his charms. He knew where Fenris lived, Hawke informed him of the mansion the elf had settled himself in, almost defiantly so, as if wanting Danarius to come claim his home back. It was a perfect opportunity for the assassin to venture to Hightown and seek out this mansion, which wasn’t far away.

The way to Hightown was an easy feat, and even more so to clamber up the wall to glance inside the room where the warrior lied upon his bed, conflicted it seemed, it was hard to conclude, gathered the darkness shadowed the other elf’s face. Zevran leaned against the frame of the window, seeing how broken it was, likely by abuse. He waited for the other man to leave the room before slipping in and leaning against the wall in a dark corner, watching the other elf return with a bottle of wine, which the assassin couldn’t recognize. Likely a special brand. ‘’My friend, why would you drink alone? Have you not heard of sharing? How rude’’. Zevran scoffed playfully as he removed himself from the wall after he validated the warrior had no urge to rip his head from his torso, instead moving to the vacant chair and slithered himself into it. He heard how moody Fenris was, although that was not exactly a mood, it was how he is, how he was made to be. Loss. Tragedy. Emptiness. Subjugation. Zevran saw all those things in the other, eventhough he knew little about the man, except from the little Hawke had told him. The conversation went rather unpleasant after that, Fenris nearly choked Zevran and he had trouble to keep himself from going unconsciousness as the hand that gripped his throat was one of a fierce warrior, he felt the markings in the hand light up, as if it enhanced his strength.

The smaller elf saw many emotions in the green emerald eyes of the former slave, the indignant expression he was given. He felt guilty, but it didn’t last too long. Zevran made no attempt to break himself free as he knew his life wouldn’t be forfeit today. It was a moment of rage for the other elf, a moment to release the anger he had been holding for all these years, and Zevran happened to be one who knew how to easily trigger it, perhaps it was beneficial. The tanned skin of Zevran began to turn a paler color, and the furrowed eyebrows of Fenris signed he wouldn’t be released anytime soon, thus the Antivan began to return the stare, letting his eyes speak instead of his mouth, which was a pity. 

A while after, the white haired elf released the assassin and spoke: ‘’Begone, Zevran. Take your goading elsewhere’’. The smaller elf composed himself and even though he was almost choked, he quickly regained skin color, provoking the taller male with words once again. The mention of the bed was definitely a sensitive area for Fenris, so Zevran guessed, and that made it all the more laughable as the wolf growled and lyrium markings started to glow. 

After such an encounter, the Antivan couldn’t wait what more he could do to the white haired elf who was so easily angered. This was a challenge he was eager to take on.


End file.
